I'll bet you were wondering what I was doing to occupy myself during my ever-dwindling free time this past week, other than performing mirco-blackhead popping surgery on my nostrils and losing my ever-loving battle with finger fungus that is. Well oh snarky one, I have been putting my free time to good use ever since I got in touch with this neet blog that gives us fanzine-crazed fanatics what we've wanted for years, mainly access to a whole slew of self-produced reads that we normally would have to bid upwards to $68.43 a bop to get our li'l ol' hand on. Yeah you have to supply the paper, the printer and the patience to get the paper outta the machine w/o crinkling, but otherwise ESSENTIAL EPHEMERA's a site that has a few of the 70s/80s English fanzines you've missed out on the first time available up and available for download, and on demand too in case you're one of those impatient women's libber types who I read about inna newspapers alla time.

There are quite a few goodies that I got hold of via this sight, like the first issue of NEGATIVE REACTION (more on that title in a future FANZINE FANABLA)  as well as the first two issues of VOICE OF BUDDHA (the second with a Mayo Thompson interview that'll have you thinking twice about his claims of being a political conservative) as well as Jonh Ingham's Clash paen LONDON'S BURNING which obviously set the stage for just about every other English punkzine that wasn't influenced by the NME's gunslingers to come out for the next ten years. If you wanna save a few pennies and fix yourself up with some really boffo night-time reading look no further'n this site, though if your copies don't seem as readable as the originals (which many times were nearly impossible to eyeball what with the lousy print jobs and other glitches I certainly can tell you about) don't say you didn't get what you paid for!

In other news, the BIG event of the week was undoubtedly  the arrival of my latest Forced Exposure order which maybe ain't that much to crow about in your neck o' the woods but around here's about as important a happening as gran'ma getting a new tractor in some old Soviet feature film! At least its stuff like this that keeps me off the streets and out of trouble, and besides that the thrill 'n anticipation of gettin' a boxfulla platters shipped to my doorstop really does bring up them ol' single-digit memories of sending away the boxtops for some outta-this-world offer and waiting a good three weeks in agony for the "cheap plastic junk" automobile model or Disneykins for that matter to arrive (still got Looie and the remnants of Goofy and the Ringmaster moiling about in a corrugated cardboard container somewhere inna basement!). The contents of my entire order can be read below but please, don't thank me----thank all of the labels who had the foresight and wherewithal to release these platters thus saving us all from a future of having to listen to all of those Violent Femmes albums again trying to convince ourselves that they really are every bit as good as the Velvet Underground and Modern Lovers were no matter how much those inner instincts tell us otherwise.

And with that note, onto the same old...

Jack Ruby-HIT AND RUN 2-CD set (St Cecilia Knows, available via Forced Exposure )

They LIE! This package is being touted as containing "the collected recordings" of the infamous in their own obscurity no wave group Jack Ruby when I know for a fact that there is one glaring OMISSION!!!! There's a cover of Hawkwind's boffoid "Brainstorm" flopping about out there somewhere, but is it on this double-disque collection? Not at all boobala, and if you don't think that makes me a rather upset li'l anal retentive you certainly don't know your blogschpielers! Maybe it's on that new Feeding Tube collection, but until I know for sure I ain't gettin' that 'un nosireebob! (Last minute note---it ain't!)

If you have the ugEXPLODE collection great, but HIT AND RUN does have more and besides, there's an additional disque here which has some rather out-of-kilter sound experiments that I will admit sound akin to the kids in the knotty pine basement goofing around with daddy's stereo system circa 1965, but it should appeal to the John Cage if not the Karlheinz Stockhausen in us all. But no matter how you slice and dice it, Jack Ruby were a fantastic act that certainly jumped a whole buncha guns with their soundcapading and hey, if you like the entire concept of seventies underground rock of a garage or however you wanna put it punkism strata than this should be yet another one custom made for your already expanded alley. Comes in a top notch, high quality package which not only includes a larger'n usual book cum history, but a poster of the front cover which'll look especially revolutionary next to your Che 'n Mao (you can just tell that I have a good portion of my readers out there pegged just right!).

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Sun Ra and his Band from Outer Space-SPACE AURA 10-inch 45 rpm EP/mini-album (Art Yard England, available through Forced Exposure)

Even though there ain't any revealing moments on this segment of a 1966 Ra 'n Co. 66 live recording, it still makes for yet another tangy excursion into the realm of Great Black Music as it was flowering back in the days when even STEREO REVIEW couldn't ignore its existence. Ra on piano and clavioline and the rest of the familiar faces on the usual soundmakers doing their best to make Leonard Feather's existence a little less pleasant. If your first taste of Ra was the HELIOCENTRIC WORLDS series and you flipped head over teenage heels for the thing this'll zone you right back to the original thrust of it all.

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Orchid Spangiafora-FLEE PAST'S APE ELF 2-LP set (Feeding Tube, Forced Exposure should have it because that's where I got my copy!)

Reissue of four legendary and oft talked about fantastical late-seventies sides of edited aural mayhem that sounds like a sold week of 1977 television programming chopped up and stir-fried in the Chinese restaurant of your mind. Also features some rather bizarroid electronic mangle that is highly reminiscent of the soundtrack to at least five PBS public affairs programs of the day as performed through the robot on LOST IN SPACE's sphincter. Incredibly amazing artyfact of where the new electronic/smash-up sound of the day was heading----imagine Smegma without the squeak bats not to mention the Space Negroes and some Residential goo and you'll only be halfway there with this "wondrous melage" as the fru frus might call it.

Comes with a nice li'l booklet of information which not only features group confederate Byron Coley's take on the whole Orchid Spangiafora saga, but a slew of honest-to-gosh fan mail including one from the king of cut ups hisself William Burroughs! A boffo package that no true fan of cranial confusion would dare be without, no matter how much plasma 'n worn out tit mags you'll have to sell in order to afford it!

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Herbie Nichols-THE COMPLETE BLUE NOTE RECORDINGS -CD-r burn set (originally on Blue Note)

Bill always sends me these bop-era jazz platters perhaps in order to shame me into listening to something that ain't of a free/avant garde vein. This triple set's but one of 'em, and it's a bouncy thing if there ever was one. Pianist Nichols' complete Blue Note output recorded with the likes of either Art Blakey or Max Roach on the traps, two guys who certainly became humongous names inna canon of DOWN BEAT derived jazz saintliness while Nichols remained a passing paragraph for far too long. Beatific bop not that different from what Theolonius was laying down around the same time, and definitely a direction pointer at the way things would eventually turn in that wide wonderful world of jazz. Song title of the century (this or any other you can think of): "Cro-Magnon Nights".

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THE FANTASTIC DEE-JAYS CD (Guerrson Spain, available via Forced Exposure)

It sure is a blast listening to this mid-sixties Pittsburgh-area (Glassport to be precise) platter via a source that doesn't sound like it just barely survived a night lodged in Patrick Amory's rectum, but howcum Guerrson didn't slam on alla them single sides like they shoulda (and Eva Records did)? Nonetheless, this remains a boffo slab of teenage suburban slob rock that not only has the covers down pat (Golliwogs, Beatles, Stones...) but a whole mess of originals that match if not surpass the more familiar trackage. Yeah, a few of these songs like "Mr. Sad" hearken back to the soft schlubby sounds of the early-sixties (w/o the redeeming doofnuess that might have saved a Bobby Vee or Fabian track), but once you sweat your way through those its smooth sailing ahead!

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Edward Graham Lewis-ALL OVER CD (Editions Mego, and of course you can get it from Forced Exposure)

Back when I was an inexperienced lad (as opposed to being an inexperienced old turd) I must admit that I did harbor an interest in the works of groups such as Wire (as well as their spinoff Dome) even though the word of mouth blab regarding them did make me feel a tad wary of parting with any precious pukka shells for their platters. By the time I was able to afford to buy enough Wire albums to keep Colin Newman in touch with his spiritual adviser for ages, the spell of the whole Rough Trade/"post-punk" breed of art rock had long worn off in favor of six-oh garage band reissues and various industrial noise bleat as anyone who tuned into an early issue of my crudzine would be able to tell you. But now that we're heading into the middle portion of the 'teens and this breed of music seems almost "quaint" in its own spacial if "dated" way well---maybe it's time to give some of these acts yet another go at it, which is one reason I added this recent offering from Wire's very own Edward Graham Lewis to my recent order (and no, I'm not going to tell you the other reasons for doing so you inquisitive little buttslobberers you!).

Not bad at all really---kinda like those Eno-era Bowie tracks in spots with a definite early eighties pre-new unto gnu wave snoot appeal to it. In fact, these electro-drones really fit in swell with the batch of them early-eighties fanzines mentioned in the opening schpiel so you know they're locked in a time that we can all agree on were the best/worst of times in classic Dickensian fashion. Perhaps a tad arty, but the numbers on ALL OVER really do conjure up more'n a few of the interesting repeato-riff electro drone sounds that filled up quite a few Rough Trade orders in the early-eighties. Y'know, I thought I eschewed it all a good thirtysome years back I gotta say that this is..........uniquely adequate.

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Various Artists-EVERYTHING YOU'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT 60'S MIND EXPANSIVE PUNKADELIC GARAGE ROCK INSTRUMENTALS BUT WERE AFRAIN TO ASK CD (Arf Arf)

This week's dive into the long forgotten grooveyard of platters long stashed just happens to be an old 'n unfortunately forgotten one consisting of nada but crazeoid instrumental splatters recorded during the golden age of teenbo hard-edged punkoid gnarlism! More wah-wah toneism straight from the goshest parts of the mid-Amerigan knottiest pine basements than you can stand, and then right at the point where it all reaches a fever pitch---mom comes in with a glass of iced tea for everyone! Some of the sitar musings might not be suitable for more impressionable minds while the likes of 1001 Strings are about as garage band as the Jan Garber Orchestra, but I can take it with more'n enough grains of salt. Just imagine the whole thing as a NUGGETS for the Marcel Marceau crowd and it'll go down just fine!

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Various Artists-WALTER'S FEELGOOD WOBBLE TRAIN CD-r burn (and "you-know-who" is responsible for me getting it!)

Interesting concentration on a late-sixties garage-pop sorta thing, what with the likes of Urban, the Chants and Barons putting out this smooth pop that almost reminds me of Hackamore Brick in that late-sixties/early-seventies sorta punk rock way. Jimmy Driftwood breaks up the pop-psych with his country jive while the sitar-laden numbers by the Punjabs and the Love Sitars (doing "Paint It Black"???) kinda make me wanna hit the Tiger Shop at Sears for one of them Carnaby Street hats with the big buckles! But in all this is a rather solid selection of late-sixties obscurities that mighta even worked sweller had they all been collected on some long-playing album and sold for $50 a pop via Midnight Records (ech!). English prog thumpers would most certainly be interested in the inclusion of an instrumental by "Beautiful", who just happen to be the Soft Machine once again under the production of the legendary Kim Fowley.

MOOM PITCHER REVIEW! DEATH RACE 2000 starring David Carradine and Sylvester Stallone (1975)

Gawrsh how I love these feel good movies! And if there was any moom pitcher out there to make you want to stand up 'n salute the flag 'n cherry bomb a few chickens while yer at it it's a film like this 'un. Yez, the exact same DEATH RACE 2000 that Paul Marotta drove Mike Weldon to the drive in to see because Mike didn't have a car, and they were the only ones inna place who were watching the danged screen 'stead of what was inside their honey's underwear ifyaknowaddamean...

Post-apocalyptic dysfunctional stories whether they be in comic or film form usually do capture my fancy, and this 'un certainly does especially since it's being played for the sick guffaws as much as it is for the cathartic violence. In the year 2000 (which looks like a modernistic mid-seventies the same way THE JETSONS just reeked a space age future with all of the accoutrements of 1962), the national sport is not Rollerball but a cross-country race with the team who racks up the most kills getting the additional points. Frankenstein's the two time winner longing for number three while Machine Gun Joe Viterbo, Frankenstein's bitter rival, is just itching at the bit to take the #1 spot and off Frankenstein in the process. The rest of these real-life Wacky Racers (and racists, can't forget the aryan chick whose sidekick's none other'n future senator Fred Grandy from THE LOVE BOAT) are pretty unique in themselves, the most memorable 'un being the sexoid Mary Woronov as Calamity Jane who's so vicious you'd think (hope?) she'd bring back the old Gerard Malanga whip dance 'n do it on some of her rivals but good!

Giving us the ol' play-by-play are this Rona Barrett clone who calls everyone her dear friend and a grizzled old coot loosely based on all of those old evening newscasters who peppered the screen for years, not to mention legendary deejay Don Steele as the over-rambunctious announcer who breaks into programming with glee whenever one of the racers "scores" by offing anyone from a road construction worker to some little kid who happens to be crossing the street by himself for the first time.

But don't worry, because other'n one brief skullcrush the violence in DEATH RACE 2000 is relatively tame and always played up for laughs, so when you see alla 'em old folks lined up onna street just waiting for Frankenstein to run 'em over he does the unexpected and drives through the hospital entrance tossing the entire medical staff inna air! And you'll be up 'n cheering too feeling just like you did when you heard about that kid in school who got back at that bully by blowing his head off with daddy's rifle when you see the cars going neck and neck heading for that next target which could either be another easy sixty points or perhaps that great pathway to Valhalla (y'see, there are sinister elements out to stop the race, something which figures very heavily into the overall plot which I dare not reveal because I ain't one of those film critics you used to read in TIME magazine!).

Yeah, I gotta admit that there are some slow moments (like the typical slobberin' scenes) and I sure coulda used a whole lot more bloody violence to get my adrenalin pumping because man, I was sure hoping that one kid rolling the tire down the road woulda gotten splattered (and while I'm onna roll, howzbout some good ol' fashioned controversy like different points for different races which really woulda gotten the fights starting in your favorite urban palace!), but nothing since HENRY, PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER's got me up and cheering in the ol' John Wayne tradition like this! One that not only woulda been worth sneakin' outta the house (age 12) to peek at while stationed in the woods in back of the drive in theater (don't forget the binoculars!), but worth the whallopin' you were gonna get once you came home late!

Yeah it's summertime, but the livin' sure ain't easy around here what with the specter of real life (y'know, the salt mines 'n all that) breathing heavily down my ever breathed down neck right to the point of insanity!. Sheesh how I envy you professional workers out there, what with your two week of vacation and lounge chairs in the back yard to go along with all of that iced tea you're drinking, not to mention the barbeque blasting away while you roast weenies 'n burgers on it next to the swimming pool where the kids are holding cousin Euclid under to see how long he can last until drowning. Can't ever hope to compete with a summer like that, mainly because all I ever do during the summer anymore is reminisce about the fun summers I used to enjoy which now seem about as distant as the Magna Carta!

Now when I was a kid summertime really meant a whole lot to this suburban slob of a guy even if the folks were always lining up work to keep me occupied (well, it was cheaper'n camp and besides, I always got the feeling that they felt that if they sent me to one I'd get raped within a few short days), but nowadays all summer is to me is just another season where I do the same old (and more!) only it's warmer out! The only thing that differentiates summer from the other three seasons is that I only feel more guilty about hanging around in my bedroom while the aforementioned folks toil out in the yard, but I eventually get over it by consoling myself with the truism that "well, SOMEBODY'S gotta trim the curb and pull weeds, so why should it be me????" Besides, they gotta pay me back for not sending me to camp, though if they were so concerned about the status of my sphincter they could have at least gotten a steel shank buttplug for protection.

Sheesh, Mick Jagger was right as rain when he said what a drag it is getting old, and just one look at him these days'll prove to you the truth of his own wordage! But gee, if we could just once again have one of them good ol' time summers that entailed days at the swimming pool 'n piling the kids into the station wagon to take 'em out for ice cream and other great turdly ranch house-styled fun 'n jamz like they used to be wouldn't it be just ducky??? But as that old comic strip song said "those days are gone forever!" and you know it's true.

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Anyhoo, I think you'll dig this latest collection of writeups of both recently-received and one old-time faves that have crossed my laser launching pad these past few days. Nothing what I'd call SPECTACULAR has passed my ears true, but then again I've come to expect that from an era in music that certainly does not have the same instant energy and spark that the musics of the first, second and third generation of rock 'n roll did (I'm basically talking about rock music BEFORE it has been glorified and "praised" by definitely anti-rock hippies and other zealots who wouldn't know a good Velvet Underground song if it bit them on their butterfly-tattooed asses.) Oh yeah, there are some good platters of music both old and new being produced out there as anyone who's heard of Fadensonnen, Dark Sunny Land or One Hand Records can tell you off the bat, but for every top notch effort that is being released today you can bet that there are at least a hundred loused up logjams being made by people who, ironically enough, think that they're doing a pretty wonderful job imitating and emulating the power and accomplishment of the first three generations of rock 'n roll music combined, and then some!

Sometimes I'd just love to shove these new prissy rock acts into a big room, pump nothing but high energy music (rock and otherwise) and scatter the room with classic rock writings and even some videos of extant past glory, and maybe something'll sink into these braindead bozos' minds so at least I can live the last few years of my putrid existence secure in the fact that maybe rock 'n roll will STAND after all.

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RIP CASEY KASEM---phone in a dedication to your dead dog in his memory.

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Here's an extremely powerful, affecting, and insert your favorite golly gee descriptive adverb here bit of rock writing courtesy the underrated Jonh Ingham that certainly got me all hot and bothered like it would have had I read it back when he actually writ the thing! Thanks Jonh, I needed that 'un to get me over the fact that, for all practical purposes, rock 'n roll writing (let alone rock 'n roll) has been doornail dead for the past thirtysome years! Along with the music of course, but if you've read the fourth and fifth paragraphs written above you would have known that already.

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So like uh---where was I??? Oh yeah, here be the reviews...

DARMSTADT AURAL DOCUMENTS BOX 2-JOHN CAGE COMMUNICATION CD (Neos, Germany)

This 'un'll probably mean about as much to you as wiping up after a bowel movement does to a resident of Melbourne (Victoria, Australia), but given how I've spent the year of 1978 searching out (mostly in vain) for any sign of Cagean musical intuition it sure means a whole lot to me! Mister Cage may sound faggier'n usual in his various "communications" but he sure does make you "think"...about exactly what is another question but I'm sure there are some interesting pearls to be found in his various commentaries regarding the state of music and the late-fifties avant garde. David Tudor performs some current piano pieces from the likes of Christian Wolff and Bo Nilsson before doing a duet with Cage on his "Variations 1" for pianos and radio sets which really gets the audience snickering even more'n when Hans 'n Fritz gave Der Captain a TNT enema. If you still got your beret 'n stale doritos handy, this is a good 'un to spin while you're putting on even artzier'n usual airs.

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Acoustic Trauma-A NIGHT AT THE TRAUMA HOUSE CD + DVD set (available via CD Baby)

My search regarding progressive rockers playing on CBGB/Max's Kansas City turf in the mid/late-seventies has turned up a gigundo goose egg (unless you wanna count TV Toy), but maybe this current act from upstate En Why could be considered a modern-day variation on those perhaps thankfully elusive acts. I originally caught about a minute or two of an Acoustic Trauma set via a CBGB cybercast and pegged them as some classical art rock group that was going nowhere, but this live set shows that this oft-tagged prog group actually could rock out pretty snat-like. And not only that, but for being classified as such a group they sure are more interesting and chance-taking than those other prog acts of the past who cluttered up the seventies with images of fiery dragons and blond-haired damsels with enough cleavage that you could hide an entire family of Cambodian refugees in 'em..

You might not cozy up to the use of acoustic guitars, mandolin and violin immediate-like, but this trio makes what would seem like music for a progressive rock posefest work. Leader Paul Nunzio Maceli's performances on these stringed instruments fits in swell whether he's strumming his guitbox or playing gypsy violin, and you could at least be thankful he didn't drag a mellotron into the act like he mighta had Acoustic Trauma had been around a good thirty-seven years back. Musically these guys owe plenty to the mid-late seventies prog slog scene but don't hold it against them, for Acoustic Trauma transcends the usual post-Crimson pratfalls and more or less keep your attention chugging for a far longer time than the likes of Curved Air or even UK ever did. And who knows, maybe someday I'll even watch the DVD that came with this! Nothing that tops my charts, but much better'n any of us woulda given 'em credit for.

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John Coltrane-THE BETHLEHEM YEARS 2-CD-r burn set (originally on Bethlehem)

Pretty pleasing enough fifties bop with Coltrane mostly on the sidelines, though you readers who are more attuned to the nastier side of new thing histrionics will probably up nose at it as you atonal advocates are wont to do. It's your penny true, but personally I find it rather invigorating (even when Coltrane is paired up with guys like Al Cohn who I always thought were nothing but holdovers from the previous bowtie 'n tux jazz generation) and a smart enough indicator of the direction jazz was heading in back '57 way. Just get the fact that more'n a few bowtied doofs listen to this music outta your mind and yes, it will go down a whole lot better!

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Jimmy Forrest/Miles Davis-LIVE AT THE BARREL CD-r burn (originally on Prestige)

Speaking of bowtied doofs I'm sure there were a few in the audience back '52 way when this sesh was laid down live at St. Louis' Barrel, but them guys were sure in for a good show no matter how hot on the trail for tail they might have been. No "Night Train" here, but tenorist Forrest swings in that bop kinda way that seemed so adventurous inna early fifties even if it was gonna be wiped out by the tide of Taylor and Ornette a good decade later. And Miles Davis plays away so smoothly that you just have to get the fact that this guy was a pain-riddled psychopath outta your mind. The sound quality may be feh, but that never stopped you from listening to METALLIC KO so if you can find this 'un and download it for nada but the cost of a blank aluminum tea coaster more power to ya.

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Daina and the Tribe-ON A JUNGLE BOAT RIDE CD (via CD Baby)

Last week's spin got me interested in finding out more about this gal who has a number of tea coasters available via CD Baby, so I decided to pick up this 'un which was recorded about the same time as that 'un and happens to have that early-eighties En Why ennui about it that perfectly captures the time 'n place well. Some surprising jazz musician inclusions here (Joe Chambers, Ray Mantilla and once again Jeremy Steig among others) give these tracks a boppish feelthat comes off like that weird three-way meeting point between jazz, fusion and New York underground rock you would have hoped woulda happened a whole lot more'n it did. Ain't gonna be spending any more $$$ of Daina's other platters (yet), but this is a mildly pleasing one that's gonna get a return spin more sooner 'n later.

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Various Artists-CUCA RECORDS ROCK 'N' ROLL STORY CD (Classics, Sweden)

Sometimes I just hafta dig deep into the collection not only to give a listen to something different for a change, but to reacquaint myself with a lotta those old favorites that once made up the soundtrack for my existence but got lost somewhere in the shuffle of life. And what better a disque to give another go 'n this collection of rarities that came out on the legendary Cuca label, the same company that not only introduced the world to the Fendermen's boffo bash "Mule Skinner Blues" but was originally called SWASTIKA until label owner Jim Kirchstein decided that maybe that geometric figure wasn't as lucky as people in ancient times were led to believe. Especially with a smattering of special interest groups breathing heavily down your neck.

Besides the original recorded version "Mule Skinner",  this collection's got a whole slew of Minneapolis-area platters recorded for the entire Cuca family of labels which also included the likes of Sara, Fan and Sunderland. Most of the inclusions show the strong influence of the Fendermen pretty much in the same way the Wailers lit up the entire Northwest area for a good seven or so years, what with all of the "Mule Skinner" cops and swipes to be heard from the likes of Bob Mattice and the Phaetons not forgetting the Fendermen themselves in a variety of post-fame aggregations (including Phil Humphrey's Fendermen, the same ones who put out the definitely latterday POISON IVY album on Koala). It certainly is a rock et roll education listening to the strong Fendermen influence which you thought woulda petered out once their hit record got shoved to the back of the collection around the time the new Bobby Vinton single came out.

Besides the various Fendermen spinoffs and other local cashers-in-ons, you get a few decent imitations of the other big names of the day (Rick Nelson, Dion...) as well as some outta nowhere surprises like Kenny King's 1962 "I'm Gonna Love You", a surprise given that this song sounds more 1965 mid-Amerigan garage band than early-sixties country rock. And yeah, you probably heard a lot of this on those White Label albums that were popping themselves into the fifties collectors market back inna eighties, but they're all here in one nice glop so's you don't have to change platters so often during those late night rock jags.

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Various Artists-FRIDAY NIGHT RAIN SCRATCH TROUBLE CD-r burn (via Bill Shute)

Another nice-o selection ranging from  the familiar (Mick Farren) to obscure (Outer Spacists). Speaking of the Spacists, they're one of them newfangled groups who do it up oldfangled-style, and they do a pretty good job aping past accomplishments to the point where you're kinda confused as to whether or not they're an old band or a new band doing an old thing in a kinda new-old way (got all that?). Bill had the good sense to put some late-sixties garage band cum psychedelia on here (The Ferguson Tractor) as well as some strange novelty goo from Billy Barty and Spike Jones, and in no way can I even begin to categorize Mister Murray's "Down Came the Rain" which comes off like something Johnny Ray mighta emitted while sharing an overnight lockup with some Turkish sailors.

There's even some rare exploito emulation from Pakistan (the Savages), e-z listening glop from Charles Magnante ("The Girl From Ipanema" done up on accordion) and an act called the Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments who somehow ring a distant bell in my ever-hazy memory. All in all the inclusions on this Shutestacular are custom made for those who would agree that trying to find rarities such as these is pretty much in the same realm as trying to find a toilet in India!

MOOM PITCHER REVIEW! VALLEY OF THE DOOMED a.k.a. LA STRADA DEI GIGANTI a.k.a. RUTA DE TITANES starring Don Megowan

Nize li'l western here, only it ain't a western but is set in the Alps of all places. 'n it was probably filmed there too, because this 'un definitely is a dagoland production starring the Gill Man himself Don Megowan as some Amerigan guy who's building a railroad through the mountains for the Parma Government and I don't mean Parma as in PARMA PLACE either! The Austrians are having a big turdly logjam over this railroad being completed so not only do they send a couple of guys out to sabotage the job, but they gets this sexoid countess to woo Megowan while doing some durty underhanded dealings behind his manly back.  She even does a sexy dance in a body stocking to try to get his testosterone bubblin' like pea soup, but as we know these tough guys are made of stronger stuff! Well, either that or they're eyeballing the new busboy on the job.

Of course things develop to their logical conclusions and the Countess eventually falls for Megowan and he for her while the dastardly doings get even dastardlier, and it all comes to a head with the gal seeing the error of her ways and joining Our Hero in his quest to get the job done. Good thing for her, because if she stayed true to the Austrian govt. I kinda get the feeling that Megowan woulda been prone to give her a few good hard whaps on her bare behind. Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind seeing something like that, at least if it's done in a comical way!

Like you probably know by now, this is basically a wop-a-western complete with a saloon fulla dancing girl types, grubby tunnel diggers 'stead of miners, and of course a great barroom brawl and shootout only with the Austrian arny 'stead of Mexicans. So once you get over the locale this is one good settle back and get over that Saturday hangover kinda film you used to watch on Sunday afternoons on many a lowly UHF station in the tri-county area. Settle back, enjoy the Alka-Seltzer, and please don't crunch them potato chips too loud!

Well, if you wanted a weekend post featuring writeups of all of the new recordings I got hold of these past seven days, you GOT one...

Daina and the Tribe-SOUNDSCAPE WITH JEREMY STEIG AND CBGB'S POWER TRIO CD (available via CD Baby)

As you all know I'm always willing to give a listen to some of these old En Why See acts that would frequent the clubs and go practically nadaswhere despite all of their hard efforts. In fact the more atypical of what these local acts were "supposed" to sound like the better in my book, and to this day I'd sure like to give a listen to some of those real obscure acts that used to play CBGB if only because they were usually so "outside" the loop, so they must've been good if you dare to use my own sense of twisted rockism logic!

Daina and the Tribe figure into this somehow, with an act that featured a belly dancing singer backed by what you would call a standard rock backing (at times consisting of flutist Jeremy Steig) who produced a music that wasn't quite in tune with the underground flavor of the day yet wasn't gonna hit the WNEW playlist any day soon. Daina has a smooth enough voice while the music backing is slightly jazzy yet straightforward enough in a non-offending way that came off rather exhilarating in the ennui-riddled early-eighties when these numbers were recorded. And the way I look at it, if Essra Mohawk could get a gig at CBGB there's no reason why Daina couldn't have as well!

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Stu Gilliam-AT THE BASIN STREET WEST CD-r burn (originally on Fax)

Pretty funny stuff from this Gilliam guy who delivers the laffs w/o stooping to the standard cheapshot vulgar obscenity that these days permeates the work of many a standup both black 'n white. Yeah there are a whole slew of hells'n'damns and even a few double entendres that Gilliam had the good sense not to deliver through with, but next to those pious and preachy types who always pop up on Comedy Central thinking they've just as much a right to defame and shame as Bill Moyers the man comes off quite refreshing! Gilliam undoubtedly gets a "G" rating in my book and who knows, he might even in yours despite the occasional lapses into subject matter that future "funnymen" took to their most disgusting if obvious conclusions.

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GENE NORMAN PRESENTS THE CHASE AND THE STEEPLECHASE STARRING WARDELL GRAY AND DEXTER GORDON CD-r burn (originally on Decca)

I forget if I'm supposed to HATE Dexter Gordon for his incessant DOWN BEAT hype not to mention that Clint Eastwood-produced film he was in (gotta think of my gnarlier than thou credentials, y'know), but I'll just let my worse nature get the better of me and say that I enjoyed these early bop sides that the famed tenor saxophonist recorded with Wardell Gray. Nice li'l tenor sax battle they got goin' on here that does't bore and in fact sounds like the natural precursor to the even newer thing that was gonna hit the jazz world in a few years. Downright exciting if you ask me, and it was all given to you by the same guy who unleashed the Seeds on the world a good thirteen years later!

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Sweet Madness-MADE IN SPOKANE 1978-1981 CD-r burn (originally on Light in the Attic)

Didn't think I was gonna like this, but Sweet Madness actually transcend the usual gnu wave-y pratfalls that plagued many a band in the past with this collection that owes just as much to Sparks and Roxy Music as it does to Devo (who themselves owed a lot to Sparks and Roxy Music!). Recorded back when even the straightest of new wave was considered evil by the brain-dead scions of Pantsiosism, Sweet Madness do have that quirky irritability at times, but seem built of stronger stuff'n most of the electronic nerdoids of the day and could even produce some strains that might have been considered "progressive" in the best Roxy sense. Quite imaginative in fact. If you shy away from the giddier music of the late-seventies you'll probably want to skip this one, but even an old fanabla like I will admit that this is a cut above a whole lotta squall that was being passed off as speaking for your generation back in those rather overload days.

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Various Artist-SIN ALLEY VOL. 4 CD-r burn (originally on Crypt)

Thanks to Paul McGarry I again get to hear this classic slab of late-fifties/early-sixties rockabilly musings that never did get that much circulation outside of the KICKS magazine cadre. Great sleazy self-produced low-fi rock 'n roll that seems catered to the kind of kids who (unitentionally) made parenthood a priority when they were but fifteen years old. If you're a bastard born between the years 1957 and 1964 there's a good chance you were conceived to the music on this platter. Additional trackage added to the Cee-Dee version a def. boon, and I think it was boffo of the compilers to pair up Jackie Morningstar's "Rockin' in the Graveyard" with Tarantula Ghoul & Her Gravediggers' "Graveyard Rock" next to each other, which was also done with the two remarkably different tracks (well, not really) called "Werewolf" done by Garry Warren and Carl Bonafede respectively.

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DADDY-O PRESENTS MJT + 3 CD-r burn (originally on Argo)

The presence of AACM stalwart Muhal Richard Abrams might get you believin' that this is gonna be one of those free-form sound-squalls that came off so adventurous and cathartic back when you first got an earfull of the likes of the Art Ensemble of Chicago and Anthony Braxton during your young and impressionable years, but when this was recorded that stuff was about a good decade away. Naw, on this '57 album Abrams and band swing in that hard-bop style that sorta predated, and eventually was washed away by, the new thing in jazz that seemed to have caught everyone by surprise. BLOG TO COMM sticklers for the atonal and antisocial in their style will probably upchuck noses at it, but if you like the early sounds that Sun Ra and his guys were cranking out at just about the same time I can't see why you'd not want to give this one the occasional run through. Another introspective moody moment piece for those long, paranoiac nights.

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Various Artists-UNEASY BEATNIK FORMICA WINDMILLS CD-r burn (thanks be to Bill Shute)

Some strangities here true from a 1964 World's Fair souvenir record to a cover of Charlie Daniels' "Uneasy Rider" done by a fellow named Jack Daniels (not to mention a funny exercise disc from a JD Feelgood), but the bulk of this 'un's nothing but sixties cheezoid music for the Silent Majority crowd to talk about hippies 'n blacks to! Nothing the likes of my father or mother woulda gone for, but the kinda stuff that reminds me of what I woulda been hearing on some family vacation while we were checking into a Butte Montana Holiday Inn, the kind where they had that room with a tinted black glass door that said "Adults Only" and I'd wonder what nefarious happenings were going on in there to the point where I was taking a li'l extra time with my evening shower, ifyaknowaddamean...

Some of it is standard cornballus like Cara Stewart's song-poems while things like Michael Hill's "Beatnik Boogie" sound pretty much like what my pop'd imagine what beatnik music was supposed to sound like. Of course the Doyle and Leilani moosh-together of "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" and Dee Clark's "Raindrops" comes off like it coulda been performed live at the Honolulu Holiday Inn right around the moment Wo Fat was there on the hunt for a little nookie to relieve some of that underhanded subterfuge tension. And yeah, the furrin' stuff on this is potent enough to send you straight to the ethnic shop of your choice in Pittsburgh's Strip District wonderin' whether or not you wanna look at the fish heads at Wholey's or check out the excitement at one of the Asian or Italian supermarkets. I will say that this 'un does go down swell with a plato spaghetti and best about it is you don't have to smell your grandmother's garlic aroma!

BOOK REVIEW! THERE GOES GRAVITY (a life in rock and roll) by Lisa Robinson (Riverhead books, 2014)

Unlike the Nick Kent autobiography-cum-seventies rock history tome from a few years back, I wasn't that interested in reading about Lisa Robinson's own excursion into the front lines of rock criticism. After all, next to the likes of Kent as well as the rest of what unfortunately in sanctimonious retrospect has become known as the "noise boys", Robinson never was that much of a big rockscribe deal, she having come from a disgustingly upper class New York background more or less "falling" into the bigtime rock scribing game after she met her husband Richard (a greater talent and subject for a bio in my humble opinion). It wasn't like she was a dogged-down junkie like Kent nor a boozo white trash schlub like Lester Bangs, nor was she a slummoid dabbler in the performance realm like R. Meltzer. At least according to my own suburban slob tastes, Robinson came off like just another bigtime bigcity glorified groupie who was "in" on the new trends and got to go to hep places with alla the big stars she schmoozed up to, best of all getting the opportunity we all wish we had to write about her heroes and exploits in a whole slew of magazines and talk about it on radio and tee-vee just so's us backwoods dolts could bask in her jetset glory. Imagine if Christopher Reeve was a rockcrit and change the sex, and you'd get Lisa Robinson no bout a doubt it.

But then again it wasn't like Robinson, even for all of her Studio 54 chicness and atrocious penchant for namedropping just the right names at the most opportune time, was just a higher-class rock snob lording it over us midclass doofuses. She hit the nail on the thumb more'n a few times with and with addled grace, what with her "Eleganza" column (which Charlotte Pressler gracefully swiped as her own with "Pizzaz" in Cleveland's ZEPPELIN) giving the lowdown on not only what the biggies were wearing, but the tough strut stylings of alla them Iggy types which is something you wouldn't have seen in ROLLING STONE for quite some time. In fact, Robinson's article on the new breed of mid-seventies rock to be found in New York (entitled "The New Velvet Underground") was one of those pieces that I'm sure got more'n a few of us ranch house kiddies all set to head out to that burgh in order to get in on some of that punk action ourselves! And true, Lisa's mug was often espied smack dab next to Mick Jagger's, Robert Plant's and Clive Davis' at least once per issue of the tres boffo ROCK SCENE, but then again she could also be seen with David Johansen, Lenny Kaye and Iggy Pop with just about the same regularity so it ain't like I wanna off her like I wanna do with Anastasia Pantsios and the rest of the sixties flower child peace through pop brigades who have overrun the music biz to the point of ipecac-inducing nausea.

Like I said, hubby Richard woulda made for a better subject matter (I remember that thrill watching him do his illusionist schtick on DON KIRSHNER'S ROCK CONCERT back in the late-seventies thinking "I CAN'T BELIEVE IT---HE'S THE GUY WHO PRODUCED THE FLAMIN' GROOVIES!!!!") as would fellow ROCK SCENE scribe and Patti Smith guitarist Lenny Kaye (who I always wished I coulda look as cool as...and that's even as much these days as I did inna seventies!), but this is Lisa's book and I guess it'll have to do until either one of 'em decides to pick up pen and let their recollections be known to one and all. And hey, even I gotta admit that it's not a bad book at all. Well I gotta admit that it ain't perfect because frankly the book is only as good as its subject matter (which varies from interesting to downright dull), but it sure coulda been a whole lot worse and thankfully it wasn't and given that I dished out the hard-begged $$$ for this "uncorrected advance proof" I'm sure glad I got my moolah back not only in info but downright entertainment value

Being a seventies-sorta rock 'n roll enthusiast (meaning that I'm intelligent to know that the more powerful years for the form were from 1964 until 1981, at which point you could smell the death rot of all that was underground and deadly in the music), its the chapters on the Stones, Zep and New York punk rock that grab me the most. Not that Robinson divulges any downright salacious or addled information that we didn't already know (as if you could possibly say anything that would shame the legacy of Keith Richards this far down the line) but it is as they say "refreshing" to read Robinson's take on these groups' backstage antics and personal up-front feelings in a gossipy fashion that woulda driven Hedda to jealousy-induced tears. And although there ain't anything which I would call "revealing" here, it's at least fun to read about those days which sure sounded swell back when I was stuck inna middle of Zilchville wishing I could be in En Why See having fun every night instead of trying to find interesting and suggestive images in the tile on the bathroom floor.

Considering how snoozaroonie the eighties were (only to be topped by the nineties and oh-ohs right up until this very second!) the chapters on the likes of Lady Caga and U2,who Robinson makes into the logical 80s/90s end result in the Velvet Underground evolutionary scale, don't exactly tickle any ribs around here! However, I surprisingly was able to sit through the one on Michael Jackson, though I'm not quite sure if that was because of the grotesque nature of the subject at hand or Robinson's ability to give some dimension to a performer who always used his P.T. Barnum autobiography as a career guide. Actually liked that 'un, though maybe I liked it the same way I used to like looking at fresh roadkill with their intestines glistening in the warm summer sun.

So hey, this is actually a good 'un worth it for the breezy style and hipster patter sprinkled throughout. However I must admit that I have a few "reservations" if they could be called that...like why so little on hubby of fortysome years and spiritual guide Richard not to mention his production chores for the Flamin' Groovies, Andy Zwerling and Hackamore Brick? Where's all of the hot scoop on Lenny Kaye and the inside lowdown on getting those issues of ROCK SCENE out? And nary a mention of Man Ray, the Robinson/Kaye grouping that Lisa was so eager to namedrop for being some precursor to the entire Patti Smith/Television catharsis as early as 1969??? That's the kind of hot flash I was looking for, not the umpteenth saga regarding the groupie life of Jimmy Page or the dental disasters of the entire English rock scene!!! Before this one gets published for real, would someone please edit 'em all in!!!!

Sheesh, another week, another rather skimpy roundup of what I've been listening to these past seven spins. Maybe you can make some sorta sense out of it all, but right now I have more important things to worry about than what you think of this mess...stuff like what's for supper or whether or not I'm gonna be able to get hold of that ultra-elusive Fellini's Hideous Mutations single I've been wanting for oh so long---really important things if you do care to know. So have fun reading my usual spew, and like Greg Prevost used to say "these are only opinions ha ha ha!" (Once again, hefty thanks to Bill Shute, Thomas Gilmore and Paul Whatzizname for the burnt offerings they've sent my way...I mean, it ain't like you'd want to read about EVERYTHING that I've bought for myself now, would you???)

FUSHITSUSHA MEETS PETER BROTZMANN 3-CD burn set (originally on Utech Records)

The famed (at least among people who pay attention to these sorts of things) Japanese noise group Fushisusha recorded live in Japan '96 with special guest Peter Brotzmann adding his own post-Ayler spin on their already beyond the ken of Pantsios comprehension avant rock. Needless to say the results are extremely engaging even if you (like me) don't really cozy up to that newer Japanese experimental rock that was all the rage in the hipster fanzines a good twenty-five years back.

The band does put out some interesting (at least for me) electronic syntho-drone and guitar scramble, while Brotzmann once again shows us that these six-oh survivors are sure a whole lot more meaningful to the entire hard-scronk game than many of the players who came in their wake. A huge tip of the skull to Mr. Thomas Gilmore for jetting this one my way, and right at the time I was becoming too jaundiced by repeated playing of J Neo Marvin records (a purification ritual gone awry) to care about living any longer!

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The Art Attacks-OUTRAGE AND HORROR CD (Overground England)

Savage Pencil's punkoid aggro were a cut above most of the 2nd rung English groups if only because there weren't any glam slips or psychedelic remnants to peg 'em as a bunch of "poseurs" (a "poseur" word if I ever heard one). Like the best of these under-the-rug bands, there was more'n an inkling of primal genius that set the Attacks apart from much of the competition mixed in with their calculated if perfecto duncitude, and although to the more haute members of "the scene" they might have seemed like the usual clinger-ons I can appreciate their zilch-chord rampages a whole lot more'n I can some of the eighties acts that popped up in their wake. Sorta like the Sex Pistols with a sense of humor and a suburban slob upbringing (an interview in NEGATIVE REACTION mentioned Pencil's undying admiration for various Gerry Anderson productions as well as Marvel Comics and R. Crumb making me wonder---why isn't the guy an Amerigan like you woulda thought he'd be given these stellar doofus credentials???). A must-get for those of you still enamored by the underground electricity of it all.

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Got this obv. English flea market cheapo crank out if only to remind myself about all of the hubbub revolving around the original three-piece Talking Heads long before they became poster children for nth-dimensional new wave funksters who danced even worse'n Ellen Degenital. Believe it if you will, but this is actually a nice slab of stripped down post-garage Velvets rock (filtered through hefty ROCK SCENE ranch house and moms on speed teen appeal...see Elliot Murphy for more info) with nary a hint of the art school pretension that dogged the band for ages. Sounds honest enough that you probably wish that your older brother's basement band circa 1973 sounded this snappy! Sorta like the missing link between the early-seventies suburban ruminations of Hackamore Brick/Modern Lovers and the late-seventies avant-punk deconstruction of Mars, DNA and the rest, but how'n the hell did anybody know what was going to happen back in them days!

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Max Neuhaus-THE NEW YORK SCHOOL CD, ZYKLUS CD (both of 'em are on Plana-N Records)



When it came to solo percussion "realizations" of contemporary avant garde music Max Neuhaus was either a crazed genius or a bigger phony than Harry Crosby and Salvador Dali combined. Really, don't you kinda think that his version of John Cage's "Fontana Mix" (created for magnetic tape but adaptable to other sound sources) was just a bunch of jagoff experimental percussion with electronic feedback that had nothing to do with Cage's original manuscript? I mean, who could make sense from that score anyway---I get the feeling that all Neuhaus did was record some free splat noise and attribute the resultant spew to his own personal "reading" and "application" of Cage's various patterns, and the dorito-munching beret-heads all nodded in humbled approval while Neuhaus was giggling away behind their backs!

Those of you who've had and held Neuhaus' Columbia album from which his version of "Fontana Mix" appeared will certainly like these two recent dig-ups, the first being a selection of recordings of "New York School" (Cage, Morton Feldman, Earle Brown...) compositions done live 'n studio in the mid-to-late sixties while the other features four takes on Karlheinz Stockhausen's "Zyklus" done up around the same time. The first ranges from sheets of mad cymbals to quiet tinkling passages that remind me of Michael Nyman's Obscure album, while the second is yet another recorded version of the "seminal" composition (another take of which I reviewed here) that just might get your suspicions up because hey, maybe all Neuhaus really did was just go 'n record some percussion shards of his own whim and pass it off as the Real McDeal.

To be quite honest about it, I actually do believe that the realizations executed by Neuhaus are honest and bonafeed readings of the original scores and done very close to the composers' undoubtedly aleatory directions, but if you wanna scoff at the entire history of twentieth century avant screech nobody's stopping you, you lowbrow you!

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Jerry J. Nixon-GENTLEMAN OF ROCK N' ROLL CD-r burn (originally on Voodoo Rhythm)

Paul McGarry OBVIOUSLY did not read his old issues of BLACK TO COMM or else he woulda realized that I reviewed this very same platter in the very last issue of my not-so-sainted crudzine! That's one against ya Paul, and for your punishment you must listen to every Edward Bear album ever made and don't frown! But really, it was sure nice givin' these sides a listen to again what with their Texas sixties sounds right outta the we miss Buddy Holly playbook coupled with a Doug Sahm styled madness w/o the baseball stats. Paul probably didn't know it and neither did I at the time, but these tracks were recorded inna 21st century and Jerry J. as we thought we knew him didn't even exist! Talk about fakeout recordings that actually sound archival enough to pass as the down-to-home truth! But its authentic sounding enough to get even the staunchest rockabilly fan up and roarin', so more power to whoever this really is!

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JACKSON BECK AS PHILO VANCE (two episodes) CD-r burn (courtesy of Bill Shute)

If you're a sucker for a good radio drama of the old time variety you might wanna scour the archives of the internet for an episode or two of PHILO VANCE. The famed detective puts his mind to work solving two cases on this platter Bill sent, the first dealing with the meanest man alive who, after berating his maid, kicking his niece outta the house and blackmailing a business rival, staggers into a police station saying he was murdered before keeling over in front of the puzzled coppers! The second one has not only a suave man-about-town murdered, but the wopadago organ grinder he was with the very next day as well which really stymies Our Hero because everybody liked the ol' guinea! Can you match wits with Vance and figure out who dood it? C'mon, don't be stoop...of course you can't ya 'tardo you!

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Various Artists-______________ (courtesy of Bill Shute)

This week's Shute compilation does NOT have a title which certainly does make things confusing around here, but then again did Bill ever say that life was fair? Not a standard Shute disque at that, what with a whole slew of old soundtracks to lost mooms permeating the slab including some tasty rarities entitled ELSTREE CALLING not to mention THE RADIO AND TELEVISION REVIEW, both which start off this collection. Also appearing are soundtracks for some lost musical called WORDS AND MUSIC not to mention the trailer disc for Sophie Tucker's HONKY TONK which I've written about plenty here, along with various old-timey 78 tracks that sorta send me right back to a turdlerhood stuck at some grandparent's house. In some ways a tear-inducer because it reminds me of days and people that'll never come back, but then again the entire production put a big smile on my face which only proves what a crazy mixed-up stroon I have been, am, and shall remain! The next best thing to strolling an antique shop with your ninety-nine-year-old aunt!

DVD REVIEW! JOE McDOAKES COLLECTION, starring George O'Hanlon (Warner Brothers)

I was laughing my scabs off over these classic 40s/50s JOE McDOAKES Warner Brother short subjects way back during my early VCR days (just grab any issue of BLACK TO COMM twixt #s 18 and 25 to read about 'em all up front and natural-like), and now that we've entered the age of Dee-Vee-Dee I finally have the opportunity to watch the entire run of this long-forgotten series in the very privacy of my own boudoir. Yes, in an age where comedy has become synonymous with one big bad-rapping by a buncha dykes who are still mad at their daddies so they dragged some black guy on 'em and had a kid and shouted LOOK AT WHAT I DUMPED ON YOU, SOCIETY!!!, these shorts come off even funnier than the time I substituted my neighbor's birth control pills with thalidomide! And really, if I have laughed this year at all it was because of this set which helps out during those moments when I realize that life is just a joke and I just happen to be the punchline!

George O'Hanlon as Joe is of course perfect in the lead role as the hapless hero who comes off part Dagwood Bumstead and part Ralph Kramden at his get rich quick best---can't think of anyone else who coulda done the role better'n this long-forgotten fanabla who, other'n his voice work for THE JETSONS as well as the MR. ED United States Savings Bonds film is hardly ever seen these sorry days. The supporting cast is boffo as well, with Phyllis Coates tying it with Jane Frazee to see who makes the best Alice while Rodney Bell as neighbor Marvin and former Little Rascals Carleton Young (later Jackson Wheeler) as Joe's best friend Homer really make these shorts work swell. Of course the other talent in front of the camera from Fred Kelsey (sometimes not playing a cop!) to Lyle Talbot, Douglas Fowley, Joi Lansing, Frank "YEEEEEESSSS????" Nelson and even Arthur Q. Bryan doing his Elmer Fudd impersonation really add the bop to these already funny comedies which have everything going for 'em.

And rilly, who could forget the directorial talents of none other than Richard Bare. You remember him of those snarkier TWILIGHT ZONE episodes (TO SERVE MAN and the one where William Demerast cheats on Joan Blondell with Sandra Gould!) as well as the entire (but one, the debut) GREEN ACRES run which really should clack up the goodie points for all of you kids who knew enough to watch old tee-vee reruns inna afternoon when you shoulda been doing your homework!

Flashback scene from SO YOU WANT TO BE A BACHELOR

Not just a "self help" series, SO YOU WANT... really tackles the absurdities of everyworkaday living with a humorous side that comes off rather tragic in quite a few ways but don't worry, because you'll be laughing at Joe rather'n with him! And like all of the other kids have known since Kindergarten that's a whole lot better'n laughing WITH someone, so while you're cringing with Joe when he pops into the boss's office with a big faked grin right when the boss is announcing his wife's death or suffering along with him while Bud from FATHER KNOWS BEST inflicts him with a whole comic book fulla wartime atrocities you'll be feeling superior to it all knowing that he's nothing but a stoopid schmuck unlike you are! And really, when was the last time you felt superior to those rather demented and downright disturbing beings known to you as friends and family?

A great way to get your boss forties/fifties fulfillment, and although Warners coulda done a better job packaging this 'un (what, no booklet???) at least you're getting a good round of fantastic and at-times downright subversive comedy that sure beats all of that stand around and talk styled "humor" we're constantly inundated with. Well, at least that's the impression that I get from watching those ads for current produce popped in front of me during the commercial breaks on GILLIGAN'S ISLAND.

One quickie aside---yes, that is Tor Johnson playing a wrestler getting beat up by some waist-length haired assailant during SO YOU WANT TO BUY A TELEVISION SET!

If you want to know more about the McDoakes series just click on the SO YOU WANT A JOE McDOAKES WEBSITE? link found in the left hand column. Interest and informative true, but unfortunately filled with that modern-day sense of superiority that all but ruins them old time fun 'n jamz for us, with pious pontificating about how women were treated then and how this kind of humor is oh-so-demeaning...sheesh, that shit was bad enough when we were getting alla that "kumbaya" stuff crammed into our skulls when we were in grade school, but when it's even penetrated the sacred realm of moom pitcher history it 's practically unbearable! And what good does it do, since all you feel like doing after being inundated with this preachy shaming is be even more of a racist misogynist type if only outta spite! But if you "men" who happen to be reading this don't mind having your balls lopped off and hatchecked at the "More Better Than You'll Ever Be" Club by all means feel free to grovel.

Still not satisfied with my ramble on? Well just view this all time fave from '55 and just SEE

how right your Unca Chris has been about these forgotten mooms all these years! And if you run outta underwear due to their rampant moistening, don't bother sending me your laundry bills!